I improvise, play
On the strings of an abandoned soul,
Easy to write impromptu
From feelings that have sunk into silence.
Born legato daydream,
It is flowing like a star train.
Through emptiness, oblivion, tears
I extract the voice of the flutes.
They sing to you about happiness,
Give exquisite warmth,
They are simplicity and complicity
Merged into a sound message.
You virtuosity heed,
Wonderful chords soar.
In the magical trills you drown
In the heat of the game shines look.
I bring back notes to life
Lead melody gently.
Motives brave turns.
They reflect the former best days,
In them happiness sigh, love aspirations,
Naivety of views, caress words,
Crazy years of interweaving,
Nebula of thoughts, the audacity of dreams.
I improvise, play
Desired last role,
Under the mask of passion I harbor,
I try to hide the pain more deeply.
Forget you, dive into the blues,
Surrender fully to the game,
With the last bright note to merge
In the night Parisian cabaret.
It is quite another thing, it is already something with something, almost a “thing in itself”.
- To forget you, to go to the blues,
Get full of games,
With the bright last merge
In the night Parisian cab. "
READY FOR EVERYTHING.
Ready to fight pirates
Surrender to fierce shooting,
And then in the cockpit get drunk
Smelly rum, howl in the pipe,
With a knife in hand, come together with a shark,
She in the battle to release the guts.
In a pub scuffle knock out the cheekbone,
Launching fists into the work.
But I can not sing couplets,
From the strings nocturnes spew,
Shedding whiny plots ...
Here it is - horseradish, mother yadrena!
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Eugene! I know that you do not like my erotic miniatures. Do not pay attention to them. This, as Vysotsky said, is just a joke-sketching. But your unexpected pirate turn of mind inspired me.
On full sails frigate flies in the fight against the waves.
Let us die to the boards with iron hooks.
There is no way back from here - all captains are clear:
Carelessly plow the seas where we go, it is dangerous.
The Southern Cross is shining above us, and Roger is flying smoothly.
That thrown on the ground, the pirate will not regret.
He is captivated by the ocean, piastres and ducats,
He is pleased if you are honorable and rich.
Passing by, quick brig? No need to hurry!
From the run, there are many chances of being damaged.
Bales die, valuables drown in the blue sea.
Empty holds, complete calm - terrible grief.
From England the merchant swims to change his goods.
Let them hurry, we will get fees from trade.
From Asia to Europe, the load in return driven Indians.
Great, we will be captivated by diamonds, pearls, beads.
The royal military fleet is viciously scouring everywhere,
But we swear, a hundred devils, forever will not find us!
A moonless night ghostly will go to feed it crabs.
Victory rum sprinkle under the flag of a skull.
The Southern Cross is shining above us, and Roger is flying smoothly.
That thrown on the ground, the pirate will not regret.
He is captivated by the ocean, the salty waves of the sonata ...
Doubloons let them go to the bottom, and we are rich in the sea!
Reply
"Let the doubloons go to the bottom, and we are rich in the sea!"
Unselfish pirate - the same perversion as a modest confused,
a hundred thousand devils on my grandmother's coffin!
In general, the long line has greatly reduced the heat of the story, has made it somehow smeared, although the verse is quite self.
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Look, what a great rhythm for Garik, although the rhyme goes to hell:
She has nothing left
She has three rubles in her wallet.
My grandmother smokes a pipe,
My grandmother smokes a pipe.
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The poem will have to be called “Pirate Romantic Song” to somehow justify my deliberate oxymoron or change the ending. As for Garik, I completely agree, there is no rhyme “left-to-hand”, but, despite this fact, the song is sung, listened to and everyone likes. We must work on the rhythm.
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